After securing a $100 million loan from Goldman Sachs, Lin Baicheng wasted no time putting it to use.
His first order of business: investing in two young companies—Microsoft and Apple. He wanted a foothold in both, to become a shareholder before the world realized their worth.
Microsoft had been founded two years ago, Apple just last year. Both were still small, their valuations modest by any standard. Lin's goal wasn't extravagant; if he could acquire 10% of each company, even knowing dilution was inevitable later, the long-term returns would be unimaginable. Compared to that, Goldman's loan was nothing.
But Lin wasn't naïve—he knew he lacked influence in America. Without connections or reputation, knocking on Microsoft or Apple's doors himself would get him nowhere.
Goldman Sachs, on the other hand, had credibility. Their involvement would open those doors easily.
To make sure the deal went through, Lin offered heavy incentives. If Goldman could help him acquire at least 10% of both companies, he'd pay them triple their normal commission. For every additional 10% they managed to secure, he'd add a $500,000 bonus.
It didn't sound like much, but considering the two companies were worth under $10 million each, the normal commission would've been a mere $100,000. Lin's offer was a golden carrot—he knew Goldman wouldn't ignore it.
Once the agreements were signed and a $5 million deposit paid, Lin left the matter in Goldman's hands. Acquisitions like this took time—weeks, even months. There was no rushing it.
With the remaining $95 million, Lin boarded a flight back to Hong Kong.
He arrived on a Sunday. After adjusting to the time difference and taking a day to rest, he headed to Baisheng Securities the following morning.
"Good morning, Mr. Lin!"
"Morning, boss!"
Employees greeted him warmly as he walked through the office. The company had grown since its early days, but Lin could only remember a handful of names.
He summoned An Yuan, his trusted right-hand man, into the office. Though they had already spoken by phone, Lin preferred a face-to-face briefing—this time with detailed data in hand.
"So," Lin said, leaning back after reading the report, "I bought 8.5 million Wharf shares for just HK$25 million this round. Not bad at all."
He was satisfied with the results. If not for his attempt to quietly acquire Wharf, he could've earned even more. The stock manipulations had cut into his profits—but the strategic play had been worth it.
"It's all thanks to your sharp vision, Mr. Lin," said An Yuan sincerely.
It wasn't mere flattery—few people could walk into the Hong Kong market and earn nearly HK$100 million in profit in such a short time.
Lin smiled faintly but didn't deny it. "Wharf is off the table for now. We've attracted too much attention. Unless the stock price rises above HK$30, hold the remaining shares."
"Yes, sir."
An Yuan nodded, then asked, "We currently have around HK$300 million in the company accounts. What are your plans next?"
Lin's tone turned firm. "Remember Hutchison Whampoa?"
An Yuan straightened immediately.
"This time," Lin continued, "start buying up their shares quietly. Just like with Wharf—slowly, discreetly, and over time. No one can know what we're doing."
"I understand," said An Yuan. He could already sense that Lin was eyeing Hutchison for another potential acquisition.
"I'll be transferring another HK$200 million-plus into the company account today. That'll make HK$600 million in total. Use HK$100 million to acquire Hutchison shares. As for the rest…" Lin paused, his eyes gleaming slightly. "I'm putting it into gold."
"Gold?" An Yuan blinked.
"Exactly. I want you to look into Hong Kong's gold trading market, especially whether futures are available."
Lin remembered the massive gold bull run of the 1970s—driven by the oil crises and the collapse of the Bretton Woods system. From $35 an ounce, gold had skyrocketed to over $850 by the early 1980s—a more than twentyfold increase.
Right now, in 1977, gold prices had dropped from their highs. Last year, they were barely $100 per ounce, but had since rebounded to $160.
At that price, with careful leverage, the upside was massive.
"Even if I can't get Wharf," Lin said, "I'll make my fortune through gold. Either way, this money will grow."
"I'll investigate immediately," An Yuan promised. He had experience with stocks but not gold, so he'd need to gather intelligence before acting.
"Good," Lin said. "The sooner the better. I don't want to miss the next price surge."
As An Yuan was about to leave, Lin added, "And about that HK$1 million I gave you to manage—take it seriously. I expect results. Don't disappoint me."
"I'll do my best, Mr. Lin," An Yuan replied, trying to mask his unease. Trading wasn't his strongest skill, but he knew failure wasn't an option. With the scale of Baisheng's operations now, any sign of underperformance could see him replaced.
Lin thought much the same. He valued loyalty, but competence came first.
He would give An Yuan his chance—but if he couldn't deliver, Lin wouldn't hesitate to bring in someone sharper.
Still, even then, An Yuan wouldn't be discarded entirely. His experience was valuable. He'd simply have to accept someone above him in the chain of command.